сряда, 11 май 2011 г.

Metisse "Nomah's Land"

There is a moon high above me.
Bigger and brighter than you could have ever seen it.
Stars.
A myriad of unknown, unseen, untouched constellations.
And the blackness of empty space.

And yet...

You can see it slowly fade away.
You can trace the line of the sky and see it slowly grow from black to purple and from purple...
To the deepest, brightest blue a sky can ever be.
And then you see the sun.
This enormous, bright, rejuvenating orb of pure, untouched, untainted light.

The sky is shining... Then you trace it to the clouds of mists... And then to those of thunderous rage.

Repent.

It is all I want to do.
And yet...
We are godless you and I.
We have ourself. We have our compass and we have our bag.

We want forgiveness. We need to be forgiven.
Yet the only ones we ask it of is our selves.
The only one that can forgive is me.

But, alas...
In the vastness of this forest that we call out world...
In all its shrines and ruins.
In all its caves and rivers.
Even in the tents of wandering tribes.

There is not a single mirror.









Yet.

Няма коментари:

Публикуване на коментар